


Bar Tab

by spikesgirl58



Series: ABBA/Foothills [70]
Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A view of Taste from behind the bar - part of the Taming the Muse - Prompt - sisters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bar Tab

   
Stella’s story

  
There’s something about being an identical twin that’s sort of neat, but it’s also a pain in the you-know-what.  From birth, our mom was determined that we would each be our own person. She never dressed us alike and didn’t give us cute rhyming names.  I am Estella, the oldest by two whole minutes.  My sister is Celeste.  Our mom was a flower child of the 60’s, hence our names.    
Mom tried really hard, but we often stymied her along the way, showing up for breakfast in the same outfit without even meaning to or our hair fixed exactly the same way.  As we got older, it got worse.    Everyone mixed us up, even when we thought we looked very different.   
One day, while we were at Sac State, Celeste answered an ad as a bartender.  It said no experience needed, must be over 21.  That fit both of us to a T.  So, Celeste answered the ad and I went along for moral support.   
 Image our surprise when they hired both of us.  It seemed the owner thought having identical twins behind the bar would be a fun marketing angle.  And imagine our surprise when we both actually liked bartending.  It was the first thing we’d both had in common since fighting over that pair of pink overalls when we were five.  
We both graduated from Sac with BA’s.  Mine was in business and Celeste’s was in education, but our hearts were both in bartending.  We celebrated by taking a tour of the Foothill’s wine country.  While we were there, we stopped at a restaurant we’d both heard about.   The food was great, but it was the bar that drew my attention.  
There was an older guy working it and, while you could tell he knew what he was doing, he lacked an economy of movement.  That meant it took him twice as long as it would someone with experience.  Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer and left the table.  
The guy looked up and smiled.  He looked so frazzled.  
“You look like you could use some help,” I said, smiling to make the words soft and friendly.  
“That obvious?  Our regular bartender quit and I thought I could handle it.”  He paused as a good looking young waiter approached.  
“Mr. S, how are the ice teas coming?”  
“They aren’t… I haven’t made one in so long I can’t remember the quantities.”  
“May I help?  My sister and I ran a bar in Sacramento for about four years.”  
“Can you make a Long Island Ice Tea?”  
“In my sleep.”  I offered him my hand.  “I’m Stella.”  
“I’m grateful, but my friends call me Napoleon.”  
Celeste joined me and he did a double take.  “And I’m Celeste.  We’re a package.”  
“You most certainly are.”  He looked us up and down and gestured us in.  
Within minutes we were shaking and pouring our hearts out.  And I knew we were home.

  
                                                                                *****  
   
Celeste’s story  
   
Do you know what it’s like to be one of a matched set and the dumb one to boot?  Stella is older than I am and she got all the brains.  Even though we look exactly alike, a fact that we don’t really emphasize on purpose, people always said I was the pretty twin.  Go freaking figure.  
While Stella was getting herself on the honor roll, I chose to excel in other fields.  I loved acting.  It was so great to be center stage and have everyone see me as me and not as a twin.  And Stella was always there for me, helping me learn my lines and cheering for me the loudest at curtain call.  When I made head cheerleader, she never missed a game and when I was voted the Prom Queen, she stayed home to make sure I got all the attention.  I tell you, my sister is a winner all the way around.  
I don’t know how I managed to get into college, but I did – barely.  Stella could have gone anywhere, but she chose to go to Sac State with me.  We were roomies, which only made sense.  I mean, heck, we’ve been roomies since birth.    
When I saw the posting of a bartending job, I thought it might be a way for me to get back on stage, as it were.  Here you had to be part of the drama program to act and I wasn’t.  Heck, I might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but even I knew you couldn’t feed yourself with acting.  
“I’m so nervous,” I remember whispering that to Stella and she caught my hand and squeezed.  
“What are you nervous about?  You’re cute, you’re smart, and you’ ve got me for support.”  
I giggled and when my name was called, we both stood up.  
“Which one of you is Celeste?”  
I raised my head and Mr. Dahloon looked from me to Stella and back.  “Are you sure?”  
“Yeah, I’m sure.  Stella,  are you sure?”  
She looked at me for a minute and then dug her wallet out to check her license.  “Yup, this week, I’m Stella.”  
I think we sold him right then and there.  Thankfully, Stella was willing to take the job because I don’t know that he would have wanted just one of us.  And would you believe that bartending was our calling?  
Mom made some cryptic comment about it being in our blood, considering who Dad was.  We never did know who Dad was.  Mom was funny that way.  
Anyhow, the years went by in a blur.  How I graduated was another mystery.  I think maybe Stella sat in for me on an exam or two.  That was a joke – honest!  
So we decided we were going to check out the Shenandoah Valley as a graduation gift to ourselves.  When we got back to Sacramento, we’d start job hunting.  Until then, we stuck our stuff in storage and headed up into the Foothills.  
I’d heard about Taste while working in the bar.  People just raved about it.  We had some money socked away and got more for graduation, so I twisted Stella’s arm and we went there for dinner.  
The food was great, but the bartender… well, he left something to be desired.  He was a good looking guy and all, but he was so slow.  I could see people getting annoyed and then suddenly Stella left the table and went over to him.  
A blond-haired guy came by.  He was wearing a white jacket with a funny name on it.  
“Did you enjoy your meal?”  
“We did.  The red stuff was great, but I really liked those funny puffball things. ”   
“The gnocchi?”  He was smiling now.  
“Yeah, those were yummy.”   I wasn’t about to lie, even to a stranger.  “But I gotta tell you.  You need another bartender.  He’s a cutie, but…”  
“I know, but there hasn’t been time to even put out an ad yet.”  
“You the owner?”  
“One of two.  I’m Illya Kuryakin.”  
“That’s how you pronounce it?”  I pointed to his jacket.”  
“Well, that is how I pronounce it.  And you are?”  
“The answer to your prayer.”  
I’m not usually so cocky, but ever since I walked through those doors,  I had a strange feeling that this is where I was meant to be.  And Chef, that’s what everyone calls him, agreed.  
That’s where you’ll find us most nights, laughing, loving, and mixing it up at Taste.

  
                                                                                ****  
   
Stella's story

  
“Who’s that guy over there?”  I murmured under my breath as I polished a glass.  He’d been standing there looking around for at least ten minutes.  It was obvious he was waiting for someone.  The front door is just to the left of the bar.  We see everyone first.  
“Where?”  Celeste paused in cutting up the lemons and I grabbed her and spun her back around.  
“Don’t look!”  
“Okay, how can I tell you who he is without looking at him?”  Then she caught the reflection in the mirror behind the bar.  “Wowzers!”  
“That’s my thought, too.”  He was tall and very thin.  His hair was black and unruly, as if a comb had never been formally introduced to it, but I think it was on purpose.  
“You want him?  Cause otherwise I’m going to play through.”  
“No, you aren’t.  There’s something not right about him.” I stared at the reflection.   “His eyes creep me out.”  They did.  He looked possessed, then Chef appeared and led him to one of the empty two tops.  
“About who?”  Napoleon settled onto one of the bar stools.  
“That guy Chef is talking to.”  I set the glass down, feeling better just with Napoleon being there.  For some reason, he always calmed me down and set me to ease.  I love him, I really do.  
“The new waiter?”  
“He’s going to be working here?”  Celeste was pleased.  I wasn’t.  
“That’s what I understand.  Illya was really impressed with his resume and made some calls.  Then he was even more impressed.”  Napoleon shook his head slowly.  “It’s hard for anyone to do that these days.”  
“You’re not impressed, Napoleon?”  Celeste slid the lemons wedges into a bin and tucked them away.    
“Let’s just say my gut doesn’t care much for him, but it’s Illya’s call.”  Napoleon’s eyes never left the waiter.   We’ll see.”  
It was about a month later.  Velon had settled in and he knew how to handle the customers, I will give him that.  He was up on current trends and topics.  He flirted with the women or knew when not to.  He talked jovially with the men.  His accent was just enough to make him seem worldly.  Yet whenever he approached the bar, I had to resist the urge to grab a knife.  I’d never met a man who filled me with such distrust and I worked in a campus bar for four years.              
I shot a look at my watch and frowned.  It wasn’t time for Celeste to be back from break, so why did I have such a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach?  Glancing around, I beckoned to Rocky.  The man came over and winked.  
“Hey, good looking, what can a down-on-his-luck chump do for you?”  
“Better not let Mattie hear you say that.”  I beckoned him closer.  “I have a bad feeling.  I think there’s something going on with Celeste.  Could you take over for me for a few minutes?”  
“Your wish, my command.”  
“You’re sweet.”  I kissed his cheek.  He smelled so good.  “I’ll dance at your wedding.”  
I walked out of the restaurant and looked around, letting my twin-dar as I referred to it open up.   
The night was soft and still warm.  It was casting shadows, then I heard a scuffle around the corner and ran in that direction.  Velon had Celeste pinned by her arms against the wall.  
“Just one kiss, lass,” he purred as Celeste struggled.  “You know you want me.  Everyone wants me.”  
“I don’t.”  I kicked him in the back on the knee and with a cry, Velon crumpled.  Reaching out, I grabbed Celeste’s hand and pulled her to me.  
Velon came up, his face dark with fury.  “You’ll pay for that, lass.”  
“I don’t think she will.”  Napoleon’s familiar voice made both girls spin.  
It wasn’t a secret that there was no love between Napoleon and Velon.  I mean, Napoleon tolerated him and Velon hated Napoleon in return.  Napoleon represented the only obstacle between Velon and Chef.  Don’t get me wrong, Chef wasn’t interested, but Velon didn’t make it a secret that it was his intent to have Chef all to himself some day.  
“Who’s going to stop me, old man?  You?”  
Before I could take a breath, Napoleon had Velon, a man twenty years his junior, pinned to the wall with one of his forearms, his wrists caught in one of Napoleon’s hands and behind his back.  “I think I could arrange that.  Listen to me and listen well, if I hear of you bothering either of these young ladies or any of our other staff,  you will be on your way so fast your head will spin.”  
“Chef wouldn’t allow it.”  
“I’ve known the man for forty years; you’ve known him for four weeks.  Do you really want to take that bet?”  
There was a long pause and then Velon’s whispered, “No.”     
Napoleon released him and pointed as Velon backed away glaring.  I swear his eyes were glowing red.  He took off and Napoleon came up to us.  “Are you two okay?”  
“Uh huh.  Thank you.”  Celeste gave him a kiss and Napoleon smiled.  
“Always ready to rescue you fair young damsel in distress.  You two steer a wide path around him from now on.  Have one of the guys escort you home at night.  I don’t trust him.”  
I hugged Celeste closer to me.  Neither did I.

  
                                                                                ****

Celeste's story  
When the news finally broke, all I could do was cry.  They found Napoleon alive, barely, but still alive.  He had been kidnapped by Velon, raped and tortured for days before Chef tracked him down.  Velon was arrested and taken to the hospital.  He’d been shot during his capture and that was the only bit of happiness I had.  I hoped wherever he’d been shot, it really, really hurt.  
Stella heard me and came running into the living room.  The fact that the news was on made her crumble to her knees.  “No,” she whispered.  “Not Napoleon.”  
I went to her and held her close.  “He’s alive.  It was Velon.”  
We sat on the floor for a while and cried.  “We should have gone to Chef and told him.”  
“We should have done a lot of things,” I said.  Wave after wave of guilt was crashing over me.  I regretted the only time I flirted with Velon.  I regretted the number of times I said nothing about the cracks and innuendos.  I knew Chef would have fired him on the spot and the customers liked Velon so much that I just took it.  And now this had happened to Napoleon.  
“When can we see him?”  Stella wondered out loud as we moved from the floor to the couch.  
“They are taking Napoleon to the hospital.  He’s really messed up.  I’m thinking a few days at best.”  
There was a knock at the door.  It was Henry.  He worked in the kitchen and was funny and sweet and most nights our escort home.  I let him in and he gave me a hug and then went right for Stella – lucky girl.  
“Did you hear?” he said without preamble.  
“It was on the news.  How is Chef?”  
“He’s been better, but at least they found Napoleon before it was too late.  They think Velon has been the one responsible for all those other murders.”  
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”  Henry patted Stella’s hand as he held it.  “None of us could have known.”  
 _Some of us did,_ I thought to myself.  He had extended his hand to us in friendship and this was how we had repaid him for his help and his kindness.  “What can we do to help him?”  
“Right now, the doctors say the best thing is to just let him rest.”  
“No, I mean, Chef.  What can we do for him?”  
We’d found out a bit more about Chef than he’d wanted us to.  We’d all guessed that he and Napoleon had worked together back east.  What we didn’t know is that they’d been in enforcement together.  The sight of Chef handling a gun with the same ease as a spatula was scary.  He’d killed people and he was willing to kill for Napoleon.  This was a man I wanted to stay on the right side of.  
“Just do your job.  Be respectful and give him some time.  I can’t even imagine what’s going on in his head.”  
I don’t know that any of us could and the first couple of days were a bit shaky.  When Napoleon walked back through Taste’s door, it was a joyful day… except all I could do was cry.  
I was in the stockroom, supposedly getting some cocktail napkins, but in reality, I was just sitting and letting the tears flow down my cheeks.  
“Celeste, are you okay?”  I turned at Chef’s voice.  He looked so tired, almost, well, haunted.  The last thing he needed was my problems.  
“I’m fine.”  
“Now pull my other leg.”  He sat down on a crate of toilet paper and studied me.  “What’s wrong?”  
“It’s all my fault.”  
“What is?”  
“What happened.  All Velon wanted was a kiss.  If I’d just kissed him, he’d have left me alone and Napoleon would never have gotten into a fight with him.  Then Velon would have…”  
“Probably kidnapped, raped and killed you instead.” Chef finished my sentence.  “Celeste, he was twisted and evil.  What happened was no more your fault than it was mine for hiring Velon in the first place.  Sometimes things happen that are way beyond our control.  The only thing we can do is deal with the outcome the best we can and learn from the experience.”  
“But…”  
“But nothing.”  He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently dabbed my cheeks.  His knuckles were red and raw from working in the kitchen. “We are going to have a restaurant full of people tonight, most of them celebrating Napoleon’s safe return to us.  I need you at the top of your game.”  He smiled and looked so very young all at once.  “Can you do that for me?”  
I could and I did.  Somehow, we all got through the nightmare and I think it brought us all together as a family.  We were close before, but now we were united in a common goal and a common love.  Just like the musketeers.  All for one and one for all.  
Is this a great place to work or what?  
   
 


End file.
